In Continuation
by Whole Lotta Sarah Tribbiani
Summary: Carrying directly on from DH. Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and everyone else, despite the trauma of the war, still have lives to lead.
1. Eavesdropping

In Continuation

**THIS STORY CONTAINS SPOILERS**

Sorry the title is rubbish - and sorry the summary is, too. But some of you haven't finished yet - _still_. If you're a real fan, you should have read it by now. And, if not, let's face it - you shouldn't be up here reading stuff with spilers in it. Anyway, that's why I couldn't put much in the summary.

One reason, anyway. The other is the fact that I don't know exactly what this story is going to turn out to be. I know it's called 'In Continuation', and this means it carries on from the end of the book, NOT the epilogue. No idea how long it's going to go on for ... I might get carried away and end up detailing the whole nineteen years, but oh well. I'll start writing and see.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Harry Potter. You should know that by now.

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The next few days were an endless blur. Harry could barely remember them when he looked back - there was a misty feeling of euphoria, lots of celebration mixed with mourning ... he spent the night in Gryffindor Tower, then Hogwarts closed to repair the damage done during the battle. And he was at The Burrow. 

The night before Fred's funeral found Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny in the back garden. Everyone else was inside, although nobody was really saying anything. The four of them had not been alone together since the battle, yet it was almost silent. There were alternate periods of happiness and grief, and this was one of the latter.

Harry, sitting on a chair he'd managed to Summon from inside, yawned widely.

"You're tired," Ginny pointed out.

"I know," Harry replied, "I'm not the only one, though, am I?"

Ginny gave a weak smile, rubbing her bloodshot eyes.

"I suppose..." she stood up, "I'm going to try and get some sleep. I'll see you three in the morning."

"Night," Harry muttered, "We won't be far behind you."

Ginny nodded and left in silence.

"I'd go with her, but I can't sleep at the moment," said Ron, with a heavy sigh, "I'm tired but when I want to sleep, my mind starts thinking of other things."

Hermione, who was sitting beside him, found his hand and squeezed it.

"Well, it's bound to," she said gently, "There are other things to think about, aren't there?"

Ron mumbled in agreement, his hand gripping hers tightly.

The door opened; George stepped outside, the evening breeze making him shiver.

"Hi," he attempted a smile, his teeth chattering, as he sat in Ginny's empty seat, "Are you all OK?"

There were mutters. George looked guilty, yet he had no reason to be: Harry could not imagine losing someone so close to him. Friends were different to identical twins.

"Hey - what's going on here?" George asked suddenly.

Harry looked up and followed George's eyeline. Ron and Hermione's hands were still in each others'. Nobody knew about them except Harry, so far. Hermione seemed as though she was considering letting Ron go, but it was too late. The damage was done.

"George, we were going to tell everyone in a few days' time," she began, "Don't you think-"

"It's fine, Hermione, really. There's other things on our minds right now." He winked, "I won't let on I know until you're ready. Mum's going to be so happy, Ron ..."

He, like Harry, yawned.

"I'm off to bed, I need sleep," he said, "You all do, by the looks of you."

"Yeah," Harry gave in to his senses and stood up, "Are you two staying here?"

Ron followed Harry's lead, and Hermione his.

"No, we're coming too," Ron said, "There's no point moping around."

They made their way up to Ron's room, Ron and Hermione dropping each others' hands before they went back inside.

Once in there, Hermione closed the door and cast 'Muffliato' under her breath.

"Aren't you going to bed?" Ron asked her.

"Not yet. I want to talk to you two for a bit ... I don't think I can settle down right this minute."

"All right ..." Harry lay down on his bed, "Hermione, I'm still listening to you, but I'm just going to rest my eyes for a bit, is that OK?"

She nodded, and Harry closed his eyes.

"See, I can still hear you. Someone say something and I'll reply."

He was trying desperately to lighten the mood. He knew it wouldn't help in the end, but a bit of short-term relief might make everyone feel better, even if it was only while they were together, awake. It would be a different story when they finally tried to sleep.

"I don't want to go to sleep," Hermione's voice said, as though it had been inside Harry's head, "It never happens anyway, why should I bother?"

"I'm sure after tomorrow, things'll get better. That's what funerals are for, really, aren't they?" Ron assured her, "Even so ... Fred's gone forever. I still can't get used to the idea."

"Poor George," Hermione sighed.

There was a sorrowful silence. Harry's breathing became slow and deep; soothing ... his breaths started to overcome his whole body and he let himself relax, concentrating solely on his breathing. In ... and out. It was mind-numbingly effective at relieving some of the tension and stress plaguing him: just something simple to do, that he had to do. He wasn't used to having an easy task.

Several minutes later, a hushed voice brought him back to his senses.

"Is he asleep?"

It was Ron.

Harry tried to say 'no', but he found he was, in fact, so close to sleep he didn't have the energy to move. Semi-conscious, he listened for further conversation.

"Yes, I think so," came Hermione's reply, "Why? Should we wake him up?"

"No ... no, leave him. He needs his sleep." Ron sounded nervous, almost scared, "Anyway, I think we need to talk."

"Talk ...? Wh-what about?"

"You know."

There was silence again. Harry suddenly wished he _was_ asleep - he tried to open his eyes, but the lids seemed glued together. He gave up, no energy to fight.

"I know ...?" Hermione repeated, "Oh, Ron ..." she now sounded mildly amused, "There's nothing to talk about!"

"Nothing? What do you - you mean that - that you just -" Ron was evidently taken aback, even slightly upset, "It was nothing?"

Harry knew what 'it' was.

Hermione really was laughing now, "I thought you'd changed, Ron! You know, grown up a bit! After what you said about the house elves ... _there's nothing to talk about _... I meant that I thought we'd reached an understanding. That nothing _needed_ to be said, not that there was nothing to be said at all ..."

"Oh, I _see_," Ron's voice showed dawning comprehension. Harry could picture him smiling.

More silence. This time, it didn't sound as tense. In fact, it was more like a comfortable silence. A 'nothing needed to be said' silence. He felt guilty simply for being there - if they had been lying next to him and Ginny while they talked something important through, he would have been extremely uncomfortable.

A couple of minutes later, a soft, wet noise jerked him awake again. The same kind of noise made by a kissing couple who had just broken apart.

"So it's official, then?" Ron said, and Harry knew he was grinning, "You and me -"

"I thought it was official the first tiem," came Hermione's reply, "That was my intention, anyway ..."

"Really? I thought it was more like 'I'm about to die, so I'll get my last snog off the next person I see. Oh, there's Ron'."

"Of course not."

"In that case there's something I want to know," said Ron, "Why exactly did you kiss me at that moment? It seemed a bit - you know, random ..."

"And sort of inappropriate, I know," Hermione admitted, "But like you said, it was then or never. I just - well, when you said about the house-elves something hit me. It was like a catalyst, and the next thing I knew I was kissing you. I think I realised you weren't a stupid little boy any more."

"Come on, Hermione, I know there was more to it than that."

"Well, you're right, there is ... but, generally, you take it as a given when someone kisses you."

"What's that then?"

"Feelings. For you."

"So - you kissed me during a war because one, we didn't know we were going to survive; two, you thought I was mature; and three, you fancied me?"

"In a nutshell, yes," Hermione sounded tired, exasperated, but relieved, "But - Ron, there's so much more important -"

"Not right now, there isn't," Ron said quietly, "There's no one else here talking about other things. And - well, sometimes, Hermione, you need a distraction. You get stuff in life which is difficult, really difficult, but you need to work through it, even if it's because you have no choice. But ... you know, at other times, it's OK to do something else that takes your mind off it. Just for a little bit - 'cos I'm going to be thinking about it tomorrow, aren't I? That's when I'll come to terms with it, and that's when I'll get upset. Right now, though, all I want to do is think about something else. Something nice."

Hermione clearly didn't know what to say. Harry, now engrossed, listened intently. Ron broke the silence.

"I've been wondering why it took house-elves to get you to snog me, anyway?"

They both laughed.

"I think it showed a change in you, like I said. Mind you, I had been hinting for ages. I didn't want to bring it up directly in case you didn't want to talk about it, but - well, you'd been acting really - really _weird_ for a while, and I was pretty sure it was because you liked me, but - " she sighed, "I suppose it was, wasn't it? Oh, Ron, we could've done this so much sooner ..."

"I dunno for sure, but I think I started to sort of think about you in that way in fourth year," Ron told her, "It wasn't really a big thing, though ... until it got bigger. It was kind of hard to admit to myself that I fancied my friend Hermione, let alone to anyone else -"

"Don't worry, Ron. I was exactly the same."

Yet more silence. Harry noted the slight tension, the awkwardness. He also understood it - their relationship had always been a complicated one, and now they'd finally admitted their feelings to each other there was an awful lot that they needed to explain to each other, not all of it happy.

"So - Lavender -?"

It was Hermione's voice bringing up the subject Harry had been expecting, but dreading, to hear. Ron, however, handled himself surprisingly well.

"She was a mistake," he said, "Because I was an idiot. Hermione, I'm so sorry. Ginny told me you'd kissed Krum and I just went mental. I needed to prove to her that I could get snogged, too ..."

He broke off, as if he had decided against saying something else. Hermione seemed to understand.

"And you also wanted to make me feel bad?"

Harry could only presume that Ron nodded.

"Oh, Ron ..."

"I'm sorry, I really am ... I suppose I was starting to realise how much I liked you, and that you sort of liked me - but that's no excuse," he added quickly, "If I'd just had the guts to tell you how I felt, to talk to you -"

"We're together now," Hermione interrupted him, "You said it yourself, sometimes there are things you don't have to think about."

Harry could imagine Ron - smiling weakly, shame etched across his face despite his relief.

"Do you remember that year - sixth year ... our first Potions lesson with Professor Slughorn?" Hermione asked quietly.

"Yeah. With the Felix Felicis?"

"And the Amortentia. The most powerful love potion in the world." Hermione gave a tiny laugh - it sounded a lot like a sniff, "Guess what else I could smell in it?"

"You mean apart from grass and parchment?"

Harry, wanting to know despite himself, listened intently. He was wide awake now - he knew, however, that it was too late to reveal himself; plus the moment sounded too personal. It was between Ron and Hermione, and if he had to feign sleep to keep it (what they thought was) that way, he would stay lying still on the bed as long as he had to. He owed it to them, after all.

Ron, evidently, had not guessed. Opening his eyes slightly, so he was barely squinting, Harry was just in time to see Hermione whisper, in a voice barely audible even in the deathly quiet, the words 'your hair'.

There seemed to be an understanding between them in those words, for they both leant forward and kissed again - this time planned, 'privately', without the threat of Harry to break it up.

For a moment Harry watched. Then, when they slid their arms around each other to pull each other closer, he shut his eyes again, trying not to smile.

It sounded very strange to say inside his head: _Ron and Hermione are together_.

He thought longingly of Ginny as he waited for his friends to finish what they were doing. He had not been alone with her for ages, making him just a little bit jealous of Ron and Hermione - they had private time so soon. If only Harry had been as close to Ginny as Ron had been to Hermione before they became a couple; that way he'd see her all the time.

Eventually, he heard Ron muttering again and strained his ears.

"Is this the right time to mention my book?"

"That all depends on what kind of book it is," Hermione replied.

"Don't laugh at me," Ron started, "But Fred and George -" he stopped suddenly, his voice breaking; Hermione whispered soothingly to him and he was soon ready to carry on, "Anyway, they gave me this book, with loads of stuff on how to get girls to like you. You noticed me acting weirdly - that was all the book."

"It was a very good book then, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Ron half-laughed, "Fred was wiser than I thought."

"Oh - Ron, come here ..."

Harry tried to distract himself for a moment until Ron spoke properly again.

"We'll tell everyone before you go. Not tomorrow."

"Yes - yes, that's fine." The bed creaked as Hermione stood up, "I'll see you in the morning, Ron."

"Yeah - night, Hermione."

Harry heard her walk across the floor - the door opened, then closed.

Ron gave a long sigh. Harry could read it like a book. Ron had just about sorted things out with Hermione for the better, and in two days' time, she was leaving for Australia. It was only for a few days at the most, so she could undo the memory modification she had put on her parents - but, for those few days, Hermione would be gone.

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What did you think? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I'm sure that's the longest intro - or any - chapter I've ever written. Been working on this for a while now. It may as well have been Hermione or Ron's POV, but that's not fitting in with the books really, is it? Plus I'm not too keen on writing like that. I try to keep with JK's style to make my fics as believable as possible. Just remember, that's all they are - fanfiction! Please review! 


	2. Rest In Peace

In Continuation

Chapter two! Which is pretty obvious, really. Glad to see so many reviews, but not nearly as many hits as 'One Month Later' ... probably because the summary had to be so secretive. Hmm. In a week or so's time I'll put more detail into it. That should give the slow readers time to FINISH THE BOOK! If not, well - I'll put the word 'Spoiler' there so I can't be blamed. Ha!

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter

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Harry woke the next morning to a feeling of dread surrounding him like a shroud. As it slowly dawned on him what this dread meant, he pulled his duvet over his head and failed to suppress a loud moan. 

"Harry?" came a voice. Ron was awake too.

"Morning," Harry yawned, face buried in his pillow, "How are you feeling?"

"Well ... all right, really. As good as you'd expect from someone whose brother's funeral is hours away."

"Don't worry about it," Harry told him, surfacing from his stuffy sanctuary, "I know everyone always says this, but Fred wouldn't want you to be upset, would he? Though I suppose you've got to be at some point. So - what I think I'm trying to say is, do what you feel is right. Everyone'll understand if you're upset."

Ron smiled shakily.

"In that case, if I break down at any point today, just leave me. Hermione'll sort me out."

"Aww..." Harry also smiled, despite himself, "She's brilliant with feelings and stuff, isn't she?"

"Not like me," Ron sighed. He looked at the clock beside his bed, "What time is it, anyway ...? Woah, we've slept in ... we must've needed that ..."

He climbed out of bed. Harry did the same, with another yawn.

The door creaked open, and Hermione peered in, fully dressed.

"Morning," she whispered, "Can I come in?"

"I suppose so," Ron said, "We're not dressed yet, though."

"I am," Harry pointed out. He thought back to the previous night and found that he couldn't remember changing into his pyjamas.

Hermione was already in her dress robes. She'd even taken the trouble to somehow make her hair shiny and straight.

"You look ..." Ron looked her up and down, "...beautiful. You really do."

"Thanks," she beamed at him, "I sort of wish I'd left my hair alone, though. It's making me think of the Yule Ball and Bill and Fleur's wedding and all those other happy times ..."

"I'm sure Fred would appreciate the effort you've put in for him."

"Really? I'm not sure if it looks too dressy, you know ..."

"Hermione, it doesn't matter," Ron told her," Remember, no-one's allowed to dress like it's a funeral. Fred was never all depressed, was he? That's why we're wearing dress robes."

"Speaking of dress robes, you two had better change into yours," Hermione said, "Your mum sent me to get you both up, Ron, you've missed breakfast and the funeral starts in about two hours."

"I don't care, I'm not hungry," Ron started looking for his dress robes as Harry found his own.

"all right, then," Hermione said, and left the room.

They dressed quickly and hurried downstairs to find all of the Weasleys, Hermione and Fleur gathered in the living room. Everyone was ready.

"Hello, you two," Mrs Weasley sighed, hurrying forward to give her son a bone-crushing hug, "Are you both OK?"

"Mmm," Ron mumbled. Clearly, the sight of his family looking so upset had made him feel the same.

"Right then, we need to go through everything so we're all clear," Mrs Weasley said, addressing the room, "You know we're having the funeral outside, don't you? Fred's coffin will be arriving soon, Bill, Charlie, Percy and George -"

"We're the bearers,," George finished for her, "Yes, Mum, it's fine, we know what we're all doing."

"I'm only checking," Mrs Weasley sounded flustered, "We're all going to follow you in and sit at the front."

"Sounds fine, Molly, now come and sit down," Mr Weasley said gently, "Fussing like this is the last thing you need."

Mrs Weasley sank into an armchair beside her husband. She looked pale and tired, though Harry could not blame her.

"You're right, Arthur," she sighed, "I just - I want everything to be p-perfect for - for -"

And she broke down completely. Her family rushed to her side, offering her words of comfort, reassuring pats on the back.

"C'mon," Harry muttered to Hermione, and together they walked into the kitchen. Fleur followed them; she set about making tea.

"Where exactly are we burying him?" Harry asked quietly.

"We're walking down to the graveyard," Hermione replied, "It's not far. It'll only take about five minutes to get there."

"But - isn't that quite a way for the bearers?"

"Oh, I expect they'll use magic ..."

Hermione looked sadly out of the window.

"Harry?"

"Hm?"

"When Ron's mum said we were all sitting at the front - did she mean we're sitting there, too?"

Harry hadn't thought about this. He turned to Fleur, but she left the room, carrying a tray of tea.

"I dunno," he muttered, "I just presumed she meant family. We'll be sat behind them or something, I suppose."

"I don't feel like I should be here," Hermione groaned suddenly, "I know we were both friends with Fred, but - do you really think we should be staying with his family right now, at such a hard time?"

"It's no trouble," a voice said: Harry looked up to see that Ron had just entered the room, clutching a cup of steaming tea. His eyes were bloodshot and slightly damp, "I need someone here to keep me sane."

Hermione looked as though the only thing stopping her from throwing her arms around Ron was the scorching hot tea.

"Are you OK, mate?" Harry asked him.

"Yeah," Ron nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine."

He drank from his tea shakily. Hermione watched him sadly.

"Ron, if you want Harry and I to -"

"No!" Ron said, so fiercely that tea went splashing onto the floor, "Look, if I didn't want you two here, I wouldn't have asked you to stay. You _have_ to be here. Haven't you seen the seating plans for the funeral?"

Both Harry and Hermione shook their heads.

"At the front and to the left, Dad's sitting on the aisle, and from there it goes Mum, Ginny me, you, Hermione, then you."

He was looking pointedly at Harry.

"And d'you know why? I asked if you two could be with me."

There was a second in which Hermione looked as if she was about to burst into tears, then the cup fell to the floor. Tea and broken pottery flew everywhere; a dark stain spread across the hem of Ron's dress robes but he didn't seem to care. He had his face buried in his hands and was shivering violently.

"Oh -" Hermione bit her lip, "Harry, could you -?"

She gestured to the mess on the floor. Harry sighed, crouched down, pulled out his wand and muttered '_Reparo_'. The cup fixed itself, though there was still tea all over the floor.

"Hermione, what do I use to -?"

"_Scourgify_!" Hermione hissed. Harry glanced up at her - she had an arm around Ron and was trying to get him to talk.

"_Scourgify,_" Harry said; the liquid disappeared from Ron and the floor, and he stood up.

"I c-can't do this," Ron stammered, "I really c-can't."

"Come on, now," Hermione whispered, but Ron removed his face from his hands, glaring at her.

"Hermione, you d-don't understand how this _f-feels_! I don't want to g-go to the funeral, I'm g-going to s-stay in my room until it's all d-done ..."

He was starting to worry Harry. This wasn't just grief: Ron was having some sort of breakdown. He caught Hermione's eye with relief. She knew what she was doing.

"Ron, I understand a lot more than you migt think," she said quietly, giving his shoulder a squeeze, "The only funeral I've been to apart from Dumbledore's was my cousin's. He was killed in a car accident ... and believe me, Ron, I didn't think I could go to his funeral either. Looking back, I don't know why. But I went, and it was lovely. There weren't even many people crying, because a funeral is supposed to celebrate someone's life, not really mourn their death."

"You're right, as always," Ron said eventually, with a hint of a smile, "What would I do without you?"

Hermione merely blushed, and Harry wished he wasn't there.

"We're going to get you through this," Hermione told Ron, "It's not going to be easy."

It certainly wasn't. The wait for the funeral was agonizing. Harry half wanted to talk to Ginny, but she was always on her own, looking as though this were on purpose. There would be time later.

Finally, it was time to begin.

The coffin arrived just before the funeral. It was beautiful; mahogany, with gold handles, and decorated with various arrangements of flowers. Harry particularly like one made of white flowers, spelling out the word 'Son'. There was a card with every arrangement, too. Harry spent a few minutes reading every single one, even when doing so brought a lump to his throat.

'_Dearest Fred,_

_It is cruel that you were taken from us so soon, but you will be in our minds and hearts forever. We'll never forget you, son._

_All our love, Mum and Dad.'_

Hermione had her lips pressed tightly together as she, too, read the notes. Ron was looking slightly happier.

"It's brilliant," he whispered, "So many people have remembered him!"

There were a lot of floral memorials. Thinking about it, Harry realised it should be something to be happy about. Fred had evidently touched a lot of lives. On the other hand, this meant that more people were going to be saddened by losing him.

The procession started. Fred's four eldest brothers carried his coffin into one of the fields. It was set up as if it were a huge, airy room: chairs, flowers, a carpet down the middle. The chairs were full. Harry was surprised to see how many people he recognised - everyone was there, from Luna and Neville to Verity from the shop. He tried not to look at anyone as he walked slowly down the aisle with Ron, Hermione and Ginny.

They took their seats. Fred's coffin was gently set down on a magnificent stand.

Hermione had, of course, been right. The ceremony was a wonderful celebration of Fred's life. There were tales of his childhood antics told by his family. There were poems. There were songs. And everything made Harry feel slightly warmer inside: Fred Weasley had lived, and though his life had been short, it had not been dull. He had done so much.

Hermione was sniffing, but her eyes were dry. It was only when Mr Weasley was talking about the Weasleys as a family that she let a small sob escape. Quickly, she stifled it, winding her arm around Ron's and squeezing his hand tight.

All too soon, it was over. Everyone was asked to stand and those who would be attending the burial followed the Weasleys out of the field gates. Most people were leaving - Harry supposed that the next part would be more personal, with close friends and family only.

Hermione had also been right about moving the coffin. Together, the bearers were levitating it in front of them, four wands pointing at their brother.

Harry walked beside Ron. His hand was still gripping Hermione's as if they depended on each other for survival.

"How're you doing?" Harry asked him.

"Not so bad, really," Ron replied with a brave smile. Harry clapped a hand on his back.

"You're doing well," he said, "Really well. Well done."

"I didn't find that too sad, did you?" Ron remarked, "I'd forgotten half that stuff about him."

"I thought it was lovely," Hermione joined in with a comment, "But at my cousin's funeral it was the burial that got to me."

"It would be," Ron nodded, "That's when it'll have hit you hard. I can imagine ..."

"Which means this is likely to be the hard part now." Hermione swallowed, "For all of us."

She looked at Harry.

Ron drew breath heavily.

"But we'll get through this, won't we?" He put a hand on Harry's shoulder, "Us three. Together."

Hermione tightened her grip on Ron's other hand with a small sniff.

The procession arrived at the graveyard a few minutes later. There was a lined, neat, freshly dug hole in the ground ready for the coffin. The sight made Harry shudder. Fred was going to be in there in a minute, and he'd stay there forever. Harry hadn;t quite come to terms with the idea of Fred as a body yet - he still thought of him as a living, breathing person. The way everyone talked about him ... _Fred_ ... his name ... it was as if he was living among them and they were waiting for him to pop round for tea.

This was not the case. He was dead.

It sounded so obvious to Harry now, but that didn't stop it hitting him like a cannon as everyone gathered round. He barely heard the stranger talking. He could not feel the cold gradually setting in around them. He didn't pay attention to any of the people around him.

Fred Weasley was dead.

How long he stood there like that, he wasn't sure. Ginny was at his side, her face streaked with tears, and Harry had no idea how or when she had got there. He wiped his eyes, causing him to realise that they were brimming over, his face wet. It was an odd feeling; time had obviously passed, while he had been suspended in it. He wasn't exactly sure how he felt, either. Grief was overcoming him, apart from a little bit of guilt which was surfacing from deep inside him.

This whole ceremony was his fault.

"Ginny," he choked, "Ginny, I am so - so sorry -"

Tears came splashing down onto the ground again and he made no effort to stop them as Ginny wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her back tightly, trying to talk to her, trying to apologise for the damage he had done that was beyond repair.

"Harry," Ginny began, and she was crying, too, "Nobody b-blames you. It's n-not your fault ..."

A sudden hush split them apart. Wondering what the cause was, Harry, rubbing his eyes fiercely on his sleeved, turned to the grave.

Fred's coffin was being lowered slowly into the ground. Mr and Mrs Weasley were standing together at the foot of the grave, shaking with sobs. It struck Harry suddenly just how many crying relatives there were.

A couple of metres to his left, Ron and Hermione were watching the scene huddled more closely together than they ever were as friends. Nobody yet knew of their relationship, but nobody was really paying them attention, so this hardly mattered. Harry kept an eye on them: as the coffin sank below the soil, Hermione gave a shuddering sob, and Ron a low moan. Simultaneously, they reached their arms out and held each other tightly. Harry wanted to go over to them, to offer words of comfort; at the same time, however, he knew that he could not say anything to make things better. And, he thought, this looked like another personal moment of theirs.

"I've g-got to go," Ginny hiccoughed suddenly, "I'm going t-to see Mum and D-Dad ..."

She gave him a watery smile before turning and leaving him alone.

The scene around Harry was too much. He closed his eyes, blocking out the crowd of people. Their voices echoed in his ears, mainly sobs ... he recognised Hermione's, even Ron's ... and he, Harry, had caused this upset.

It was a while before Harry thought about anything again. He stood on his own, numb with sorrow, until the people around him started moving. Someone took his left hand, someone else his right - he opened his eyes to see Ginny and Hermione looking at him, their eyes red, bloodshot, and concerned. On Hermione's other side, Ron was looking exactly the same.

"Come on, Harry," Hermione muttered, her voice high, "It's going to be all right ... we're going back ..."

He didn't speak: instead, Harry let them lead him back up the hill to The Burrow in silence. They reached the front door before anyone else. Ron let them in, and he and Ginny led Harry inside. Hermione stayed in the front garden. Harry didn't know what she was doing, but, as no one else questioned her, he kept his mouth shut.

He only realised where he was going when he sank onto something soft and found himself sitting on Ron's bed. Ginny perched beside him.

"Are you all right?" she whispered.

Harry nodded. He wasn't all right. All he wanted to do was fall asleep.

There was a creak as the door opened slowly. Hermione came in, holding what appeared to be a Muggle mobile phone. Her bottom lip was trembling, and Harry noticed her glance fix on Ron slightly longer than on anyone else.

"There's been a change of plan," she said, her voice shaking, "I'm leaving tonight."

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Sorry, this chapter took me a bit longer than I thought it would. Please review! 


	3. Hermione's Goodbye

In Continuation

Chapter Three

Sorry it's taken me a while by my standards. But I seem to be going off Harry Potter a bit already ... oh well. Hello again, AC/DC, old friends. I've missed you.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

No one said anything for a long time. Harry was still numb with grief and guilt, and what Hermione had just said took a while to sink in. 

She couldn't leave. Not in the midst of all this trouble, everyone so upset they could barely converse without sobbing.

Harry looked at Ron. He was so pale he could have been a corpse, still and silent. The imagery in Harry's mind struck him as inappropriate: he thought of Fred and his desire for Hermione to stay increased greatly.

Ginny had noticed her brother, too. She stood up slowly.

"I'm going to see Mum and Dad," she said quietly, edging towards the door. She closed it behind her, her footsteps suddenly quick across the landing and down the stairs.

Hermione burst into tears.

"Hermione!" Ron cried, rushing to her, "Please -"

She wasn't listening to him. Sobbing hard, she collapsed onto the bed and buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking. Ron followed suit, sitting down with an arm around her.

"You can't go," he said simply, shaking his head, "You c-can't. Please."

He was trembling and so was his voice as he repeated himself, over and over gain.

"You can't go, you can't, you _can't_ -"

"_Oh, I know that Ron!"_ Hermione screamed eventually, "D'you really think I want to? D'you think that I need to sit on my own in a plane when I'm in this state?"

She was livid. Harry could tell that this was simply due to emotion - all the same, it was rather frightening.

"Of course not!" she shouted hysterically, "I _can't_ go, Ron, but I've _got_ to! I haven't really got a choice!"

Harry watched the two of them stare each other out, Hermione flushed, Ron drained. Their faces were exact opposites, yet they showed exactly the same devastation.

"I'm sorry," Hermione sniffed finally, "I'm just - it's a bit of a shock, and I don't think it's an ideal time to fly off and leave you, but I can't help it, can I?" She held up the phone, "I got a call from the airport. I've been moved to another flight."

Ron was momentarily amazed.

"That thing's a _fellytone_?" he gasped incredulously.

Hermione ignored him. Wiping her eyes, she put the phone in her pocket and stood up.

"I'd better start packing," she sniffed.

Ron slipped back into misery, nodding slowly. Harry sighed heavily. He hadn't said a word in a very long time.

Clearing his throat, he spoke: "If you want any help, Hermione, just ask."

"Thanks, Harry, but I think I'll be all right."

Ron stood up.

"Right, I'm going to pack too," he announced.

Harry was about to ask Ron where he was going when Hermione started shaking her head, and he realised what was going on.

"No, Ron, you can't," she said, "I have to do this alone."

"Don't talk like that, it's not true!" Ron protested, "You don't have to! I'll come with you - Harry'll be all right here, won't you, Harry?"

Before Harry could even open his mouth, Hermione cut across him.

"I don't think it's a good idea," she insisted, "My parents have never met you, what are they going to say when two strangers come and point wands at them? Besides, I'm going by plane, aren't I? How will you get on?"

"Well - the same way the Muggles do," Ron said, perplexed.

"You know what I mean," Hermione sighed, "Plane tickets! You haven't got one, have you?"

"I'll get there by magic and meet you, then! Please, Hermione, I can't let you -"

_"Silencio!_"

Harry looked up with a jerk to see Hermione's wand drawn, pointing at Ron, who mouthed a few soundless words before realising what had happened. When he did, he glared furiously at Hermione and started to, evidently, swear.

"What did you do that for?" asked Harry under his breath.

"He won't listen to me otherwise," Hermione replied, "I'm sorry about that, Ron, but I really do need you to listen. I'm going to Australia on my own. I don't want to, especially not right now, but I really think I have to, don't you? Thank you for offering to come with me, but - you c-can't."

Harry could see tears forming in her eyes once more as she removed her spell. Ron didn't seem to see, however: he silently sat down, avoiding both Harry and Hermione's eyes.

"I'm s-sorry, Ron, I r-really am," Hermione started, but Ron silenced her with a sudden look. His mood had totally changed - he now looked like there was a question forming in his mind.

"We're going to have to tell everyone when you get back."

Harry's immediate thought was to agree with what Ron had just said. He did, after all, know exactly what he was talking about, and thought it best to do as he had suggested. Luckily, before he said anything, he remembered that the only reason he could agree was because he heard a conversation that he was supposed to have slept through.

"We can tell Harry now, though," Hermione whispered, "It won't be as much of a shock to him as it will to anyone else, will it? I mean, he was the only other person there at the time ..."

"I - I think I know what you're talking about," Harry interrupted, "And it's fine, I swear. I just presumed it was already a thing, so I've accepted it. To be honest, it wasn't even a surprise in the first place."

Ron half-smiled.

"Hermione and me were talking last night, that's all," he explained, "We've both realised that ... well, you know ..."

"I do."

"Yeah. Um - good."

"Which is, at the end of the day, another reason I ought not to be leaving tonight," Hermione sighed, sitting down again. She turned to Ron, "You understand, though, don't you?"

Ron nodded. Leaning forward, he kissed Hermione on the lips and she responded happily, slowly winding her arms around him. It was odd: Harry was reminded forcefully of their first kiss on the night of the battle, yet that one had been much more heated, completely different to the one he was witnessing on Ron's bed. Harry supposed that the atmosphere made quite a bit of difference.

"Of course I understand," Ron murmured, after several what seemed like hours, but were probably mere seconds, "I can't help but imagine how I'd be feeling in the same situation."

"Don't imagine it," Hermione warned him, "You've got plenty to concentrate on. Look, you two go downstairs, make sure everyone is all right. I'll come down as soon as I've finished packing."

"They won't be all right," Ron said casually.

"Maybe not," Hermione replied grimly, "That's exactly why we should be sticking together, isn't it?"

* * *

It was a miserable afternoon. Harry was half-hoping for a private conversation with Ginny, but was not particularly disappointed when none came - such a meeting would not have been as pleasant and cheerful as Harry was hoping it would eventually be. 

His patience was not always rewarded. Among all the sadness, Harry kept feeling stabs of jealousy whenever he saw Ron and Hermione together. Most of the afternoon was spent in the company of Weasleys and guests, nibbling at the huge buffet meal Mrs Weasley had prepared so everyone could eat when they wanted. There was one moment, however, when his two friends disappeared. He found the, after a short search: they had found an empty armchair away from most of the crowd, and were simply sitting in silence, hand in hand. A pang of envy sliced through him as he pictured himself in the same armchair, closely entwined with Ginny. He longed, once again, for their closeness and intimacy.

This though soon died when he left Ron and Hermione to get a sandwich from the buffet. Mr Weasley was there - he shot Harry a weak smile before leaning close to him.

"Can I have a quick word, Harry?" he whispered.

Wondering what Mr Weasley could possibly want with him that was so private, Harry nodded. It had to be urgent, after all, if he was to be told now.

Mr Weasley lead him into the kitchen.

"Now, Harry," he started, removing his glasses to wipe them on his sleeve, "I want you to know that nobody blames Fred's death on you."

Harry had forgotten about his guilt in the commotion about Hermione leaving. Even as he remembered it, it came flooding back, strong as ever. He felt a sudden want to find out how Mr Weasley could have, apparently, read his thoughts.

"How did you -?"

"We saw you leave the funeral early. Ginny told us how you were feeling, Harry and everyone understands. We've known you too long, we know you too well."

Harry wasn't sure what he was supposed to say.

"None of this was your fault, Harry. I think I speak for everyone when I say that."

Harry nodded.

"Yeah. I just - I can't help thinking that if I'd been faster, or whatever, then - then Fred would still be here, with Tonks and Lupin ..." he blinked furiously

"You didn't ask for all this to happen," Mr Weasley told him, a hand on his shoulder, "If anyone is at fault it's - You-Know-Who."

Without warnind, Mr Weasley's face lit up, his mouth stretched into a grin too huge for the occasion. He looked at Harry and laughed; a joyous, triumphant laugh that made Harry feel slightly more rejuvenated inside.

"Why are we still calling him You-Know-Who?" he asked himself loudly, "He can't have been as strong as we all though if he died, can he? His name was - _V-Voldemort_!"

Voldemort ... it sounded so strange to hear someone like Mr Weasley saying the name. But, Harry reminded himself, it was no longer taboo, and it was very rarely going to strike fear into the hearts of witches and wizards. He was going to have to get used to it.

* * *

"Well - " Hermione swallowed, "I'm ready. I'm going." 

She stood up, clutching a suitcase and her beaded handbag.

"I won't say goodbye to everyone, it's too sad," she said, her voice rising, "I'll be as fast as I can, but I'll have a lot to do so I can't make any promises, I'm afraid ..."

Harry approached her. He was starting to miss her already , even though her reassuringly solid, visible form was standing right in front of him.

"Good luck," he told her, "You'll be absolutely fine, and I'm sure your parents will be, too, once you've got them home."

"Thanks Harry," Hermione smiled at him, though tears were forming in her eyes, "I really don't feel like doing this, though. I don't know how hard it's going to be ... I'm fairly confident that I'll be able to undo the magic, it's the explaining I'm worried about. How do you begin to tell two Muggles about all that's happened to us?"

"You'll find a way," Harry said, in what he hoped was a reassuring kind of voice, "Just remember - Wendell and Monica are going to get their daughter back."

A tear trickled down Hermione's cheek as she wrapped her arms around Harry. He hugged her back tightly, trying hard not to start crying himself. Every mildly saddening thing seemed a thousand times worse since Fred's death. Normally, he would still have missed Hermione greatly, but at the moment he needed all the company he could get.

"Bye, Harry," Hermione whispered thickly, wiping her eyes. She glanced nervously across the room. Harry followed her gaze: he had almost forgotten that Ron was there, but there he was, skulking in the shadows. As the day had progressed, he had become increasingly moody, and snapped at anyone who approached him. Even, Harry was surprised to see, Hermione - Ron's aim seemed to be to make her stay by acting frosty due to her leaving.

"Ron?" Hermione prompted gently.

With a sigh, Ron heaved himself across the room and came to rest in front of Hermione's suitcase.

"Oh, Ron," its owner said sadly, "Am I going to have to leave without you even saying goodbye?"

"No," Ron mumbled, "Goodbye."

He was staring at the floor. Harry saw another tear escape Hermione's eye: she caught Ron's hand and he looked up.

"What happened?" Hermione asked, "You said you understood, now you're barely speaking to me ..."

"I just - " Ron swallowed, "I don't want you to go," he finished lamely, "I've kind of realised that this means you won't - you know, be here and all that. When I need you."

"I know," Hermione agreed, "I really do. How do you think_ I _feel?"

She laughed shakily - a laugh that immediately turned to a noisy sob. Something inside Ron seemed to melt. He pulled Hermione into a close embrace, stroking her hair while she continued to sob, dropping her bag and hugging Ron back tightly.

"S-sorry," she gulped, "I d-didn't mean t-to start c-crying, I -"

She fished a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. Ron let her go - he did, however, keep one arm around her shoulders.

"Right," Hermione said finally, taking deep, calming breaths, "I'm going. See you both soon, really soon -"

"Yeah, you're not going for a holiday, remember?" Harry reminded her.

She smiled and nodded.

"Straight back to The Burrow, I promise."

"I'll come and see you off," Ron said, "Is that all right, Harry?"

It wouldn't have mattered if it wasn't all right. Harry would still have said yes. He understood all too well how Ron was feeling, minutes away from his last few moments alone with Hermione for an unknown stretch of time.

Harry sat on his bed as he watched Ron and Hermione's backs leave the room.

It had been a horrid day, he thought, staring around at Ron's orange room. All he wanted to do was get back beneath his duvet and succumb to the wave of drowsiness washing over him. Sleep would bring the next day on faster, and the days could only improve.

It was several minutes before a knock on the door made Harry jump.

"Harry? Are you in there?"

The voice belonged to Ginny. Relieved, Harry called back to her.

"Yeah, I am. Come in."

She entered Ron's room, perching beside Harry.

"I hope you're not planning on talking privately, Ron'll be back any minute," Harry warned her. Then, he added in an undertone, "He's saying goodbye to Hermione."

Ginny's face turned unnaturally serious.

"Oh, is that what he's calling it?" she mumbled.

"What do you mean?"

Ginny hesitated. She seemed to be arguing with herself. Finally, she burst out with a question.

"Harry are Ron and Hermione together now?"

Harry froze. This sounded all too suspicious.

_She knew._

Or did she ...?

"Wh-why? I mean - what makes you say that?" Harry was choosing his words carefully, trying to sound as if he knew absolutely nothing, "D'you think they are?"

"Come off it!" Ginny cried, "I can tell you know, Harry! And now I do, too, I just saw them snogging outside -"

Harry swore loudly, causing Ginny to jump.

"You're right, it's true, but nobody's supposed to know yet!" Harry growled furiously, "Oh, why aren't they being more _careful_ -"

"_Nobody's supposed to know_?" Ginny repeated, "You mean Ron has been trying to _hide_ his feelings for Hermione? Well, he certainly convinced me otherwise!"

"Yeah, I know he's a bit obvious," Harry admitted, "But they're not telling anyone officially until Hermione gets back from Australia." It was Harry's turn to hesitate, "I overheard them the other night. They were going to do it tomorrow. I know they want to, as soon as possible, but it's not really appropriate at the moment, is it?"

"Mmm," Ginny agreed, "Well. I suppose I'm happy for them. Ron's crazy about Hermione, always has been. Did he finally tell her, or something?"

"No," said Harry, "She snogged him."

They both laughed.

"I'm beginning to think," Ginny said eventually, "That I'm going to have to do the same." She paused, "Only - not to Ron."

Harry stared at her. She was gazing at him, expectantly, as though willing him to say something.

The door creaked open and Ron trudged in, his expression one of despair. Ginny sprang to his side, her arm around him.

"It's all right," she whispered soothingly, "Come on ..."

She sat Ron down on his bed. He looked as lost and hopeless as he had done before his first Quidditch match.

"It'll only be a few days," Harry said, "Not long, mate, she said so herself, didn't she?"

"Yeah, but - at a time like this? It's going to seem like f-forever -"

To everyone's surprise, Ron did something that Harry had rarely seen him do. He burst into tears.

* * *

FINALLY! I'm finished! Sorry it took so long, as I said I've gone off HP and fanfiction a bit.

It's hard to write funeraly sadness, purely because you can't understand it until it's happened to you really, can you? Anyway, please review!


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